


archangeli gratia

by CLeighWrites



Series: SPN Quote Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Lucifer Impersonating Castiel, Lucifer Possessing Castiel (Supernatural), Lucifer in Alternate Vessels (Supernatural), Mind Manipulation, NOT dealing with feelings, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites
Summary: Dean asks Cas to help retrieve a Hand of God from a WWII American submarine. If only it had been Cas that had shown up to help.
Relationships: Casifer/reader
Series: SPN Quote Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693615
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	archangeli gratia

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my new Master on Patreon! She requested Casifer x Reader with the prompt “Why do you make it so hard for me to flirt with you?” from my quote bingo card; this is canon-divergent/stolen from The Vessel, so if the dialogue looks familiar... that's why! 

Fighting Amara was turning into an uphill-both-ways kind of battle. Every time you and your brothers found out where she was or had a theory about what could stop her, you were thwarted; or, Dean wouldn’t be able to finish the job. The bond he had with her was turning out to be almost more inconvenient than the Mark had been. It had been weeks since the three of you had tried to get her from Crowley, and almost as long since the visit to the cage to see if Lucifer would help fight against her. 

Time was not on your side. You and your brothers had scoured the Men of Letters library for any information you could find on how the Darkness had originally been defeated. Since it had happened, literally, at the beginning of time, there was hardly any mention of it. The next best thing was to find a weapon with God-level powers to give you a fighting chance. Other than Chuck, who’s still MIA, God-like strength was hard to come by. 

Sam had finally caught a break, finding a Hand of God that the Nazis had unearthed in France during the war. After some digging and a little technological translation assistance, the three of you had found out what had happened to the artifact and where it was. The only problem was that it had gone down on a submarine on its return trip home; neither the boat, her crew nor her cargo were ever found. Dean had been a little hopeful until Sam had mentioned that not even James Cameron’s Avatar billions hadn’t found the wreckage. 

Not easily dissuaded, Dean called in Cas to come and send him back in time to retrieve it. You and Sam had both argued the point. Not only were you fairly certain that Cas couldn’t time travel, but Dean was also always putting himself in harm’s way, never allowing either of you to be in unnecessary danger. He was an insufferably protective older brother, despite how many times you and Sam had proven yourselves capable. 

Although they hadn’t known you growing up, your mother was stubborn and clever and had figured out what really had kept John away. She had been friends with Ellen Harvelle and had learned more than she’d have liked from the hunter’s wife, including how heartbreaking it was to lose someone you loved to the life. She had taught you everything that she could, and Jo filled in the gaps that neither Ellen nor your mom had wanted to be filled. You were determined to do what you could to help, and as soon as you had turned sixteen, you ran away to join them hunting. John was not pleased with you knowing about all the things that go bump in the night, let alone that you had trained to hunt them, but he agreed to let you stay and help Sam with research. Dean had treated you like the little sister he’d always teased Sam of being; you’d fit right in and never looked back.

In the end, Dean made an excellent point about him being virtually useless against Amara, and you couldn’t fault him for wanting to do something to help fight her, so you had agreed to let him and Cas go without you. Cut to: the two of you anxiously awaiting their return, and your anxiety quadrupling when Cas came back down the stairs barely moments later, drenched and alone. Something had gone wrong. 

Sam was the first to recover. “Cas, why’re you- wait a second, where’s Dean?”

Cas made it to the bottom of the stairs and looked even more distressed than Sam. “We made the leap; he got on, I didn’t.”

You couldn’t imagine why Dean would have been able to make it onto the sub if Cas couldn’t. You and Sam both voiced your incomprehension. “What?”

Exasperation laced Cas’ reply. “I couldn’t make it past the hull.”

Sam tried to get more information from Cas as you excused yourself to the bathroom to fetch him a towel to dry off with. When you came back into the room and handed him the towel, Cas appeared to be unusually stressed about losing Dean after promising you both that he would stay by his side. He distractedly dried himself off, then snapped at Sam when he offered to go back and help Dean find Delphine. 

“Right. We'll double down on what screwed us the first time. You're really bringing your A ideas today.” Cas rounded the table, whipping his towel off in a grand gesture to sit in the nearest chair and whispered to himself, “I can't believe I lost it.” You and Sam both took note of his word choice, then Cas sighed and corrected himself, “Him.” He puts his hands together in front of himself and adds, “Can't believe I lost Dean.” Then he nods like he’s satisfied with himself. “Well, it's up to him now to find and clear the warding.”

Sam was insistent that there was a way for you to get Dean back and burn through the sigils from outside of the boat. You watched as Sam went to the shelf to grab a book and turned in time to see Cas rolling his eyes and rubbing his hand down his face. Something else must be bothering him. You’d never seen him so agitated; it’s not like Dean had never been on his own, or things hadn’t gone according to plan before. There were more important tasks at hand than worrying about why Cas was acting weird, so you slid a book over for him to leaf through while you opened your own, and the three of you committed to finding a way to get Dean back. 

As your eyes started to cross, Cas was mindlessly flipping pages, and Sam shot up from the other table and started reading out loud about the spell he had found called a Gathering spell. He read how it was designed to break down warding, exactly what you needed it to do. His face fell as he shut the book when he read the ingredients and discovered that the reason that it was an unheard-of spell was that it required Archangel Grace. 

Of course, the perfect spell would be one with impossible ingredients. When did anything ever go a Winchester’s way? It appeared to be Cas’ turn not to be discouraged, as he pressed his absurdly pink lips together and held his hand under his chin. You had never seen him look more obviously contemplative, almost more human. Maybe not being at full power had made him embrace the more gestural side of his human vessel. 

“Well, Sam, we may as well try.” There was something about the way he said it that felt like he was playing Sam, but that must have just been how tired you were. Cas didn’t play games. 

Sam simply sighed and shook his head. “We don't have time for long shots, Cas. Even at full power, you're not strong enough.” And with that, he stood and trudged out of the room, clearly dejected.

Part of you wished that there was something you could do to reassure him, but you were feeling just as demoralized. You sighed and rubbed your fingers in circles at your temples, trying to prevent your stress headache from turning into a full-blown migraine. Cas huffed out a breath and when you looked at him, he was staring at you. 

“What?” You couldn’t help your defensive tone, Cas never looked at you like that, he’d always had a more ‘profound bond’ with Dean. 

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N.” Cas started, his voice dripped like honey, but you could tell that he was hedging his point, so you just rolled your eyes and motioned for him to continue. He reached across the table and took hold of your hand, then looked you straight in the eyes. “You’re strong and resourceful; you do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

“What are you trying to say, Cas? Like Sam said, ‘we don’t have time for long shots’.” 

He pursed his lips together, again, like he’s trying to hold his tongue while talking to a toddler and squeezed your hand a little tighter. “You would do _whatever_ it takes to get your brother back, yes?”

A light bulb goes off in your head when you realize he was being evasive. “You still want to try that spell.” You thought about it. Cas wasn’t usually insistent about anything that he didn’t feel was worth his time. If he genuinely didn’t think it would work, he would have moved past it already; especially to save Dean. “Okay, I’ll help. What do we need?”

Cas smiled wide and nodded. Something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Sometimes the way he would look at you reminded you of- no, no. He was still in the cage; there was no way Lucifer got out after your last encounter with him. Cas was just stressed and acting a little more human because of his weakened grace; that was the only explanation. 

Cas grabbed what you needed from the kitchen while you went to the storeroom to get what you could from there, and you both met back in the library. Cas began preparing the spell while you read over the instructions again, making sure you had everything that you needed, and that Cas was preparing the ingredients correctly. There was no time for mistakes. 

Just as Cas grabs the ginger to chop and add to the rest of the ingredients, Sam walked in and saw what the two of you were doing. “Hey. Cas, what is that?”

Cas started chopping the ginger root into thin slices. “It's your spell of gathering.”

Sam scoffed. “You nuts? You're not strong enough, Cas, you could get hurt!”

Cas turned to you and gave you a look that read, ‘we knew he was going to pitch a fit’, then turned back to Sam to ask, “You find a better option?”

Sam paused for a moment. “Well, no, but… without a serious boost to your angel power, that spell won't even work.”

Cas kept chopping the root, undeterred. His voice was low when he replied, “My strength may surprise you.”

Sam walked away from him to set down the massive books he had brought in with him. “Wait a second. I remember Bobby told me when you needed strength to retrieve us from the past, you used him to power up; you touched his soul, right?”

There’s a pause, _almost_ characteristic of hesitation before Cas answered back. “That's right; I did that. But that procedure can be fatal.”

Sam glanced at you but didn’t even wait before offering himself. “Use my soul.”

“Sam!” you caution while Sam kept talking.

“That way, maybe you'll have enough power to wield the spell.”

Cas just shook his head, adding more ingredients. “That isn't necessary.”

“It's worth the risk.” Cas stopped to look at Sam while he attempted to persuade him. “Cas, Dean needs our help.” He took a meaningful breath. “I trust you.”

The tension in the room was tangible. Sam was stiff as a board, knowing what sort of pain having your soul fucked with causes, and you couldn’t imagine anything that you would rather see less than Cas excavating your brother. Just when you’re about to say something, Cas started laughing. You’d never heard such a sound from the angel before. If you hadn’t gotten goosebumps from it, it might have been a pleasant sound. As it was, your instincts were telling you that something was definitely not right. 

Sam must not have picked up on how weird Cas had been acting, though, because he looked genuinely confused. “What?”

You shot to your feet as Cas answered, still laughing. “Oh, it's just- I don't need you anymore.” His voice doesn’t even sound the same. He continued as if he was talking to himself. “I mean, Dean's the one with the link to Amara, why have I been trying to spare you? I mean, maybe it's because,” he turned to look at Sam, “you're like the girl who kept turning me down at the prom.”

_**Shit!**_ How many times had you heard that phrase before, all in reference to one being; one archangel. No wonder he still wanted to do the spell—no wonder he had been so _off_ lately. You tried to step forward to stop Ca—Lucifer from grabbing Sam, but your feet refused to move while he grabbed your brother by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the column. You struggled in vain to move, then to scream. You were utterly immobilized. 

When you quit fighting against the hold he had on you and tuned back into what was happening, Lucifer was still talking. “... Dean and the uh, Hand of God, and then when Dean comes back, and he finds this place decorated with your guts, I will tell him the truth, Sam.” It’s surreal hearing how honest he sounded. “I'll just say, 'Dean - '” he stopped himself, holding up a finger to correct himself, and dropped his voice to sound more like Cas’ then continued, “'Dean… he knew the risks. He wouldn't take no for an answer.'” 

Finally, Sam realized who he’s dealing with; he looked at you, horrified, for one moment then turned to face, “Lucifer.”

“In the flesh.”

You watched, petrified, as Lucifer shoved his hand into Sam’s chest, and Sam screamed in agony. It felt like Lucifer’s hold on you had weakened as he began his gouging of Sam’s soul, so you struggled harder to move then finally lunged forward. Your jeans slid easily across the wood as you lept across the end of the table and slammed, full force, into Lucifer’s side. Sam fell, unconscious, to the ground while you and Lucifer tangled together and landed with a hard thump to your shoulder. 

You scrambled to get the upper hand, but the archangel had you thoroughly pinned to the ground. His hands were wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head; his ankles locked around yours, spreading your legs wide; his pelvis shoved yours into the cool floor, once again rendering you completely motionless. Lucifer hummed and leaned in to sniff at your neck, making your skin crawl as his nose trailed along the sensitive skin. 

“Get off me!” You strained against him, trying in vain to find a weak spot in his defenses.

Lucifer tutted at you. “Now, now, Y/N. I’m still going to save your insufferable older brother. I’m not hurting Sam anymore.” He shifted your wrists together to free one of his hands then caressed his crooked finger down the side of your face. “You’re the smart one.”

“What do you want from me?!” 

The hum that reverberated through him was a perverse imitation of Cas’ usual baritone. “Mmm, what don’t I want from you?”

His pelvis shoved into yours, and your stomach twisted. The shiver that ran down your spine froze you in place as bile rose in the back of your throat. When you go up against the Devil, he’s going to want his due; now he’s going to collect, whether you’re willing or not. Fear made your instinct to fight back kick in, and your renewed struggle was met with a hand around your throat.

“Why do you make it so hard for me to flirt with you?” The sing-songy tone to his voice was in sickening contrast to his implied threat. 

Desperation surged through you, and you strained your head away from him to scream for Sam to resume consciousness, but no sound came out. Lucifer’s hand wrapped around your face to turn you back to look at him. 

“Tsk, tsk. Now, Y/N, we don’t wanna wake Sammy up for this. Let him get some rest.” He dropped his face to run his tongue along your neck, sparking goosebumps across your skin. “Right now,” his hand trailed down your arm, “I’ve got you,” his fingers trailed along the waistband of your jeans, “all to myself.” 

With a flick of his wrist, your pants were undone and shoved down to your knees, along with your underwear. Tears stung the back of your eyes as his fingers toyed with your sex. Red-hot anger flashed behind the familiar blue when you tried to turn away from him, followed closely by ice-cold panic rushing through your entire body when you found that you were unable to move again, you couldn’t even blink your eyes. You were literally powerless against him. 

“This will be over quick, I promise. I can’t afford to lose that Hand of God your brother is fetching for me. Granted, he’s going to be coming home to quite a mess once I finish up with you and Sammy-boy over there; so, it might just be better not to bring him back, huh?”

Your vision blurred with hot tears as his cold fingers plunged into your unprepared channel. If you had been able to move, you would have jerked away from the unwelcome intrusion; as it were, you could only wait for his ministrations to work your body into a more agreeable state. It didn’t take long for his fingers to be able to slide easily in and out of you. 

Once your body was more responsive, Lucifer snapped his fingers, stripping you of all your clothes, and him of his pants and jackets. As he situated himself between your legs, he seemed to realize you weren’t wholly accessible to him in your current position. Your legs were still mostly straight, barely leaving a gap for him to fit into. He grumbled to himself while he rearranged you so that your knees were bent and straddled around his waist. 

It was an utterly foreign sensation to see his hands on you and not feel them, to see him moving your legs into place, but have no control over them whatsoever. It gave you hope that maybe you wouldn’t be able to feel anything else he would do to you; you could just tune out while he had his way with you, then he would be gone, it would be over. Of course, Lucifer would never show mercy. 

Try as you might, every time you were able to let your mind wander, he would do something to refocus your attention. He must have been able to tell when your eyes weren’t taking in his face any longer, and he would bite your neck or your ear lobe, or thrust in deep and rotate his hips, or moan your name and grin down at you with his stolen face. No matter how many times you had been able to disconnect, he’d brought you back. 

“Y/N,” The weight pressing you down was suddenly lifted. “Y/N, I am so sorry.” 

A hand cupped your face, and you flinched away, startled further by your ability to do so. Following the arm reaching toward you, you found soft blue eyes searching your face.

“Cas?” 

“Y/N, I don’t have much time.”

“Why? How could you-”

His eyes became even more strained. “I wanted to be of service to the fight. Only Lucifer can beat her.”

“No, we can find another way. You have to eject him! Fight him!” Your heart was hammering in your chest.

“I can’t; it’s taking all of my strength to hold him back now. We need him.”

Wide-eyed, you shook your head. “No, we-”

“We need him to save Dean.” Castiel couldn’t time travel, just like you’d thought.

His head cocked to the side, his face flinching in aggravation. “Hello, Castiel.”

Your blood froze as he looked at you, then he stood above you, fully clothed once more. You could see him physically trying to regain full control of Cas’ vessel, but Cas was able to maintain some sort of restraint. Your mind raced, trying to think of some way to save yourself, but remembered that Dean was still stranded in the past. Before you could come up with any semblance of a plan, Lucifer looked at you and smiled wide.

Without warning, he was gone. Your breaths came in body-wracking sobs as your legs fell, and your knees clenched together. When you screamed out your frustrations, Sam stirred, reminding you that he was lying not five feet away from you. You rolled to your stomach and stretched your arm out to him. 

Your tears clogged your throat, but you were able to call out a garbled, “Sam!”

There was a groan right before he blinked his eyes open. He flew upright, and his eyes shot around the room, looking for the danger he had been faced with before his involuntary nap. 

When his eyes landed on you, his face scrunched up in pure horror and intense pity. “Y/N!”

The tell-tale swoosh of angel wings alerted you to Lucifer’s return. Sam calling out to Dean, warning him that he was not with Cas, apprised you that Dean was alive and back. 

Immense relief preceded the overwhelming shame as Dean took in your disheveled state, as well. Tears renewed, you curled in on yourself. You continued to cry, arms wrapped around your legs as your brothers fought with Lucifer. An indiscernible amount of time later, you felt something soft and warm covering you and realized that you weren’t crying anymore. The bright flash you thought you’d imagined, must have been one of your brother’s banishing Lucifer. 

It was over, for now. Lucifer was gone, in his apparently freely-given Cas-suit. After being wrapped up in a blanket, Dean cradled you in his arms; he was walking you down the hallway toward the shower room. You felt safe and secure in his embrace, but your body was not relaxing. Once he got you to the showers, he gingerly set you on your feet. 

His fingers avoided your skin as he slipped a lock of hair behind your ear. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.” He looked and sounded like you felt. 

Your voice broke when you tried to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong, so you just held his eye-contact and shook your head. Stray tears still followed the paths of their predecessors over your cheeks as you tried your hardest to reassure him. Dean was, first and foremost, a big brother who always took more than his fair share of responsibility. Stubbornness was a hereditary Winchester trait.

Dean cleared his throat and rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Do you, um, do you need anything?”

You looked over to where your shower things were placed by the shower you preferred to use. Everything was there waiting for you, aside from one thing. 

It took you clearing your throat twice before you could speak. “A towel?”

Dean looked around and saw that the room was, in fact, devoid of towels. He nodded, looking relieved to have something that he could do to help, something that was within his power to fix. He rushed out of the room and was back before you could begin to miss him. He had a towel as well as a change of clothes for you. 

As Dean hung your things on the hooks by the door, Sam peaked in, a hesitant smile on his face. 

“Sam,” you lurched toward each other at the same time, and he held you tight in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Y/N. I am so sorry.” Sam had somehow surpassed Dean’s level of guilt. 

“There was nothing you could have done. Either one of you.” You smiled at them both. “I’m fine.” You could taste the brine behind your teeth. 

None of you believed your words, but you all also knew that there was nothing more that could be said. With watery eyes, your brothers left you to shower in peace and wash away the horrors of the day. As you scrubbed, you prayed to a God that never listened that Cas had made the right choice and that somehow you would be able to lock the Darkness away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy, let me know what you think!


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